


To Think Things Over

by modelmagic



Category: Angry Birds - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 08:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12553136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modelmagic/pseuds/modelmagic
Summary: “Red, you’re pretty smart. I’m sure you could figure this out on your own."





	1. Now This Mountain I Must Climb

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to my datefriend for the original convo this fic is based off of
> 
> chapter warnings: alcohol, non-explicit vomiting

Bright, colorful strobe lights in an otherwise dark space, loud electronic music, and birds cheering wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Those birds partied every other night and sometimes during the day too. The lights didn’t look nearly as pretty or as blinding, though.

It was a Friday night at the local bar. Exhausted from the dancing, Chuck made his way back to a table where Bomb still sat this entire time. Dancing wasn’t really his thing. Well, it kinda was, but he wasn’t the best at it and didn’t want attention drawn to him on the dance floor. Instead, he sat eating a fruit salad he had brought from home.

Chuck raised an eyebrow at him and got the idea to pour whatever was left of his own alcoholic drink onto Bomb’s food. They both stared at it in silence for five seconds. The question (and the answer) to whether or not he would be eating _that_   wasn’t said, but it was there somewhere.

Bomb wasn’t upset, as he already ate enough and mainly had it out to avoid looking awkward being all alone at a table. “Are you really that drunk?”

“Nah,” Chuck smiled. “I’ve had a lot, but I’m good at handling it. Like _really_ , really good.” He pat his friend’s back. “And _you_ , my friend, look bored beyond belief! Wouldn’t you rather be having some fun?” He turned his head. “Like Red over there?”

That statement was a bit of an exaggeration; not unusual for Chuck, but he was mostly right. To an outsider, it might seem like Red wasn’t all that enthusiastic over being in a place like this, but all the contrary, not just on his attitude but also on being here. He was no stranger to this place. Granted, all he did was sit in a corner until he forgot about whatever was upsetting him that day. He now stood with a more relaxed expression, leaning against the bartender’s table as he waited for his drinks to be served, bobbing his head to music he wouldn’t be listening to— let alone enjoy— at any time besides now.

Bomb spoke up with slight defense in his voice. “I’m having fun!”

His follow up comment on how Red is taking a while to get back to the table with their drinks didn’t get much of a reaction or response from his very lovestruck friend. An elbow propped on the table, Chuck used his wing to support his tilted head. Hearts practically appearing over his head. Half-lidded eyes staring at Red enjoying the loud techno beat.

Trying not to specifically make a comment about Chuck wagging his tail, Bomb broke him out of his romantic trance by poking him, seeing as just waving his wing in front of his face wasn’t working. “You... really aren’t being subtle about this, huh?”

Abruptly, Chuck’s posture stiffened, his wings making fists and hitting the table.

“Well, I-I-I’m sorry!” Bomb stuttered out, trying to stop tears from forming.

His friend’s sudden gesture didn’t come from anything said, it was because of what he just realized. At some point, Red wasn’t enjoying _just_ the music, but also what he had his eyes on, and Chuck traced his sight back to what it could possibly be. If only _some_ birds could stop being so _rude_ and get out of the way with their outdated dance moves to let him spy.

The target was (probably) spotted. A group of conventionally attractive, but otherwise indistinguishable male birds. Their head feathers going in some unnatural way and perhaps were extensions. No one would be surprised if they were actually a boy band where they’re all “the cute one”. The way they stood, complete with one having his wing around the other a liiitle too close, made it the perfect CD cover for them.

Nonetheless, strangely Red was sort of interested.

And Chuck was infuriated.

Fiddling with the straw in his empty cup, he tried calming his thoughts by bringing up what he knows about Red. He knows that Red himself wouldn’t _really_ like any of these guys. He just finds them good-looking in his somewhat inebriated state. He knows that Red isn’t one to like someone just based on their looks. He knows that Red doesn’t know a thing about flirting. He knows that Red lacks basic social skills altogether. He knows that Red will never make the first move. He knows that Red being ridiculously hot is... his unpopular opinion, so he knows that there’s no way any of those posers will even think of getting near him.

Not resisting the urge to look back up was a mistake. His brows furrowed even more as he saw Red _still_ staring, even when the drinks had already been served and placed beside him. He thought that Red has got to be bad at handling drinks if just two or three made him practically hypnotized by some okay-ish dudes. Chuck shot down a sudden thought that suggested that he himself might find them better-looking had this been a completely different scenario. That would, like, _never_ happen. Obviously.

Chuck simply crossed his wings. Then he noticed a change in Red’s expression and connected it to one of those birds walking. One that seemed tall and somewhat purple? It was hard to tell with the lighting. The bird also wore sunglasses inside at night because of course he wore sunglasses inside at night.

Chuck... simply dug his fingers into his arms. Then it was certain that the sunglasses bird was making his way towards Red.

Chuck would’ve jumped up if Bomb hadn’t put a wing on his shoulder. He wondered when he did that, but then again he honestly forgot Bomb was even there while he succumbed to his own bitterness.

All Bomb knew at the moment came from what he could see, but he has known Chuck long enough to know when he’s about to do something he’ll regret later on. “Don’t.”

“Wh _aaat?_ I’m not...”

Chuck couldn’t take it anymore and ran. Bomb sighed, taking a bite of his fruit salad, promptly spitting it out when remembering it was tainted.

 

It took Red a few seconds to realize his wing was now being held and not by the bird he was expecting it would be.

The awkwardness filling the air made Red give a nervous chuckle. “What’re you doin’?”, he slurred, leaning his head towards Chuck, but never breaking eye contact with the bird in front of him.

“Holding your wing.” Red groaned at how he was blankly given the literal explanation and at how Chuck still wasn’t even looking at him.

Sunglasses bird’s expression flattened. “Oh. You have a boyfriend...”

Red would’ve choked on his spit if only his breath wasn’t so dry. He denied the assumption as quickly as possible, which wasn’t working, seeing as Chuck held his wing even firmer and gave the taller bird the death glare of a lifetime. Trying to insist that he doesn’t know Chuck wasn’t working either.

“...’mean, ...I-I do know ‘im, he’s jus’ drunk!” Chuck’s breath did reek of alcohol, but his actions were very much in his control. “...Very drunk.”

Sunglasses bird cleared his throat and said that he’s going back to where he was to give them both their space for them to figure this out. He quickly apologized to a still very angry Chuck before leaving.

Red pouted as he thought of everything that could’ve come out of this and how it was all gone. He remembered all those times he thought that no one could be even remotely interested in him. He recalled everything that had just happened and snapped back to reality, his wings making fists, one of which was still holding Chuck’s and was nearly crushing it.

“What the flock was that?!”, he yelled as he faced Chuck. Feeling stupid when realizing he was still holding wings with him as he said that and finally removed his from this grip as aggressively as possible in his drunken self. He felt unpleasantness all around with what just happened and how he suddenly regrets those drinks. He wants to go home and sleep forever, or stay here and drink forever, but not before scolding his ‘friend’.

Chuck’s eyes darted around the room as quickly as possible while his face heated up. He found his fake answer nearby, raced towards it, and back. He took a small sip from one cup and held the other two with his other wing. “You were taking too long with our drinks!” He stuck his tongue out in disgust when realizing he drank the one meant for Bomb. “Who orders milk at a bar? They have that on the menu?”

If anything, Chuck’s reply made Red even more frustrated. “You couldn’t jus’ get the drinks yourself? You were so upset that you had t’ embarrass me?”

Realizing he’d dug himself into a hole, Chuck aimed to steer this more into what the real answer was. Just to get out of this and not end up confessing, of course. If anything, just for the current setting. _‘Red, I know you’re not the same bird you were a few drinks ago and our breaths are disgusting but just know I have a huuuge crush on you’_ isn’t nearly as romantic as he’d planned this would go in his head.

“What if he was just pranking you?” Close enough. At the very least it had to do with him not liking the guy.

“...’cause a guy like that _must_ be jokin’ if he’s hittin’ on someone like _me_ , huh?!”

“Nope! No, no, no.” Chuck reassured with his wings in front of him to try and calm Red down. “I-It’s the opposite of that! Uh... He didn’t look good enough for you!”

Red’s shoulders dropped as he glanced at Chuck. He looked at where he was staring earlier to see the bird with his friends once again and smiled. “He looked _fiiine_...” His tone of voice and expression made Chuck feel like he’d been kicked in the stomach. Red continued, looking back at Chuck, irritated. “Dudes usually _never_ talk to me! Y’know that!”

“Oh,” Chuck placed his wings on his hips and tilted his head to the side. “And what am _I?!”_

“Ugh.” Red rubbed his temples. Just a moment ago, it was all fine. It was all great, even. Now he has to deal with Chuck not handling that him being extra wasn’t well-received. “Jus’ tryin’a get a man!” Perhaps said louder than hoped for, but he didn’t care at all.

Chuck stomped his feet repeatedly, feeling like screaming. “What if he’s closer than you _think_?!” He immediately wished he really had gestured at himself. Red can’t possibly be this dense.

Red looked over Chuck’s shoulder to see Bomb still at their table. He looked like he was contemplating doing something— maybe getting on the dancefloor—, but he’ll probably just sit there and they’ll already be leaving by the time he made up his mind.

“Eh... Bomb isn’t really m’ type...”

Chuck threw his head back as much as he could, groaning. “ ** _Not. Him_** _.”_ He groaned even louder.

Red rolled his eyes and spoke in a casual, fairly joking tone. “Pfft. Then who?” The next thing he said was what put the nail in the coffin in what he meant. “ _You?_ ”, he snickered. Which became louder as his drunken self found this to be the funniest thing in the world at the moment.

Glass shattering was heard. It could’ve been the drinks Chuck dropped. He feels it was something in him that made that noise instead.

Chuck took a step back and saw everything disjointed and blurry as he struggled to keep his balance. His stomach felt like it twisted and wouldn’t stop, if anything got stronger. It was painful to swallow, but he knew he needed to.

He couldn’t stop to rethink about what was said. He couldn’t wait to form some questions to ask. He couldn’t even glare at Red. All he knew was that he couldn’t just shrug that off as inebriated insensitivity, and that had to leave and quietly ran out the establishment.

Red examined what was happening and it wasn’t making sense to him, not just because most things at the moment weren’t making sense to him. For a second, he thought it was just Chuck being dramatic, like he was during past dumb arguments they’ve had. But it was different this time. Chuck never stayed quiet like that, not to mention a brightness that seemingly died out in his eyes.

He had to to talk to him.

But first, he nearly jumped in place at being tapped on the head and broken out of his train of thought. He would’ve been tapped on the shoulder if he wasn’t so short. Before the other bird could get a word in, Red spoke up. “Oh hey... Sorry, man. I really can’t talk right now.”

 

* * *

 

It was still completely dark outside as Red walked out the doors of the bar. Chuck could be anywhere in the island. He figured he’d just make his way through it slowly because Chuck needs to be here somewhere and Red wasn’t going to rest until this was done. Rest mentally, at least. He felt like he was close to blacking out.

His plan for lookout was interrupted by the sound of vomiting nearby a bush. “Same”, he muttered.

He squinted as he tried to make up whoever that sound was coming from, only to find out it was Chuck.

Relieved, he clumsily jogged towards his friend, keeping a distance between them for various reasons. “Chuck! I was-“

Chuck wiped his beak before getting up to walk away. Red blinked and followed with a blunt “okay”.

Surprisingly, Chuck just walked, which was still admittedly much faster than Red’s walk, but it meant Red could keep up.

“I’m not talking to you.”

“Well, you jus’ did. So, do you mind tellin’ me what all that was about?”

Chuck sighed and spoke in the most serious tone Red has ever heard from him, making him wonder just how much of his usual voice was forced. “Red, you’re pretty smart. I’m sure you could figure this out on your own. You’re lucky you’re so tipsy right now.”

And with that, he finally ran off, deep in the trees, leaving Red with even more questions than before.

Chuck ran back a second later. Wings on his hips, moving his head from side to side with every other word he said. “And **don’t** follow me to my house or _else_ I’ll get my parole office on you!” And then he left.

And then he came back once again. “Okay, so he’s there because _I’ve_ done things... B-But I’m sure he could do something to you too!” He pointed up and left, yet again.

Red... didn’t exactly have more questions than he did before. At least, he didn’t have any that really mattered. He filed the last few seconds as just dumb and focused back on what he needed to do. He decided to give Chuck his time for the night. Maybe he’d cool off in the morning.

For now, it was time to go home and overanalyze the situation at hand as best as he could. And wash his mouth repeatedly.


	2. Feels Like the World Upon My Shoulders

“I mean... he was just trying to flirt with someone and didn’t know how you felt about him, buddy...”

Bomb scooted back on the floor, nearly backing up against the wall completely, to avoid any of the used tissues from getting near him. Chuck blew his nose and threw yet another tissue into the pile he had on the floor next to the hammock he was resting on.

He can’t remember when he started crying or for how long he has been. He usually didn’t get hangovers but _of course_ he had to get one now. That combined with his sobs didn’t make it easy to get coherent sentences out when trying to explain or just telling Bomb he wants to vent altogether. He’d calm down since then, if anything because what he mainly felt at the moment was annoyance and a headache.

Bomb blinked. “He was pretty hammered too, so...”

The way Chuck jolted up and turned his head caught Bomb off-guard. Irritated and eyes bloodshot, he groaned before trying to explain once again.

“The _point_ is what he said to me, Bomb! I was trying to get him to take the hint that I like him! He...” Chuck swallowed, as if pushing down his sadness and trying to project more anger. Or maybe he was trying not to throw up again. Could be both. “The way he said it... He thinks me liking him is a joke! Or... he’s thought about it before and can’t see it happening and he’s just been leading me on this whole time! Who knows for how long he was gonna keep this up if not for how he was last night...” He scrunched up his face as the last few thoughts held in the air. “ _He knew I liked him this whole time..._ ”

“Birds say the weirdest things when that happens! What was it he said, again?”

“ _‘Pfft, then who? **You?**_ ’ And I know that it doesn’t seem like that bad, but you had to be there to hear the way he said it. Well, I mean, you _were_ there but not _there_ there. I just- Yeah, he was plastered, but you know very well how that makes birds lose the filter between their brains and their beaks. We both know I’ve said things... The _‘pfft’_ he added makes me completely sure that it wasn’t just me getting the tone he was going for wrong. He just... Ugh, no wonder he never picked up on my flirting! Or like, he _did_ pick up on it, but didn’t say anything because he’s not interested! And that’s... f-fine, but I’ve been into him for _sooo_ long! Why couldn’t he- He blurted it out when- Ugh! It’s hard to expl _aaain_!” He threw his wings up in resignation.

Bomb got on his feet and walked over to comfort his sad friend. “Aw, c’mon. You know how Red is. He can be...” He struggled to find the words that could get his point across yet wouldn’t be insulting. “...Not nice... But you’re one of his besties and he wouldn’t be that cruel to you! Maybe he thought that keeping quiet was for the best? Didn’t he go talk to you when you both walked out?”

Chuck sighed as he looked at the wall beside him. It had a couple of his own paintings; ones made for anger management class that he was the most proud of. Matilda said the purpose was to paint something peaceful to look at for instant relaxation on a bad day. They never had any effect on Chuck, but he still liked how they looked. He definitely did not have the daydream of someone walking in and asking which famous artist those paintings are from, only for him to say they’re his or anything. Not at all.

He looked at one he painted in his own time. One of Red.

Red doesn’t like having his picture taken and Chuck didn’t know how _‘hey, can I take a pic of you to put up on my wall so that I can look at it whenever I sleep’_ would go. He assumed it wouldn’t be all that great. He had looked at Red long enough to capture his likeness from memory close enough.

Bomb spoke softly. “Can’t you just talk to him?”

Laying down on his hammock, Chuck looked down in thought. Obviously, that would’ve been the first thing they should’ve done. They had already tried doing that. Well, Red tried, but Chuck wasn’t having any of it that night. He still wasn’t having any of it today. He still didn’t want to talk to Red. He didn’t even want to look at Red. Sure, he just looked at a painting of him, but it’s different. Red the painting is cute, Red the bird is a jerk.

Chuck sat up and dramatically put a wing to his chest as he lovingly stared off into space, as if about to say the most romantic story ever told. “Bomb, I’ve liked him since the moment I saw him.” Bomb didn’t find this behavior out of the ordinary and Chuck fidgeted with his wings as he went on from there. “He was just so... cute. He’s cute. He’s adorable. He’s hot. Okay anyway, that’s not the first time I’ve felt _that_. There’s just always been something about him that I really dig. I’ve never felt something like that with other birds I’ve dated and I’ve dated lots of birds, mind you...” He bit his tongue to prevent going off on a related tangent. Now was not the time for that. “Also, the fact that he’s so, y’know, _angry_ and yet never does anything whenever I’m all touchy with him gave me the feeling of a _certain_ something. I’d touch his beak ‘n stuff and again, nothing. You’d think he’d push me off or something, but he’s like... touch-starved, I swear. Also he’s gay, but I thought that was obvious and I’m glad he’s come to terms with that. Anyway, then he killed my son Billy.”

It took Bomb a solid thirty seconds to realize that Chuck was talking about the welcome sign he had built for anger management class that Matilda hesitantly agreed to place in front of her dojo. Chuck continued. “Billy meant so much to me, but Red apologized for destroying him!”

“He did?”

“Yeah, he did. You were there, but like, not _there_ there. I swear, you miss the most important things, Bomb! Anyway, it just so... nice. It was great! I felt so dumb having such a good feeling about him when I met him and then he did that and then he apologized and I just knew we were meant to be! And that he cares about me! And then he did the thing at the bar and it just killed it again! I just- _Ugh!_ ”

“Why didn’t you just ask him out before this?”

“My flirting is sooo obvious! I didn’t wanna make this weird in case he wasn’t ready, so I just waited agonizingly long until he was. Then he did this and now I know that he’s not interested, but did he say that? _Nooo_ , he had to make it sound like it’s a joke that I like him!”

Chuck’s voice flattened as he laid face up on his seat. “... We’ll talk about it inevitably and get along again someday. I’ll just have to live with this and that’s sorta okay... Well, I mean. I won’t feel okay with constantly being around someone who didn’t even properly turn me down until after I had a breakdown over it, but!” He exhaled deeply and sat back up to face his friend. “...Haven’t you ever felt that strongly for someone, Bomb?”

Bomb put a wing on his shoulder before answering straightforwardly. “Nope!”

Chuck’s look of hope, just wishing Bomb would understand after hearing all he’d poured his heart into, turned into the same annoyance he had not long ago. He loves Bomb, he really does. Bomb tries his best, he just... doesn’t get it. The “it” being most of what goes on, but he’s a trooper.

Bomb happily continued. “All birds I date just kinda come and go. We’re still friends in the end, so it’s all good! Why don’t more birds try casual dating? It sure is fun.” Chuck wondered how Bomb’s love life was so stable, but that thought was left for another meltdown some other day probably. Right now, he gave up on trying to get any form of understanding and slouched back on his hammock once again.

Bomb, realizing what little help he has been and feeling disappointed, walks past his friend and looks out the nearby window, having to bend down and move the leaf curtains out of the way. Letting out a sigh as he looked out just hoping for something, anything to get a more exciting or less depressing conversation. All he saw were trees. Maybe he could cheer Chuck up by talking about his favorite trees.

He gasped when finding his answer. “Oh, look! Red’s on his way here!” He announced, as if this was perfectly fine and not the route to more problems, in Chuck’s mind at least.

Chuck sprung from his seat, screeching out a _“ **WHAT** ”_ as he zipped to peak out the window too.

Sure enough, Red was heading their way. Drowsy, perhaps still a little tipsy with his walking there, but he was powering through it with a yawn every so often.

“You said you wanted to talk things out!”

“Not right now!” Chuck whispered harshly. “I haven’t even planned out how to enunciate my heart-wrenching monologue! Keep your voice down!”

Their staring made them waste some time they could’ve used to think of what to do. Chuck redirected his look towards Bomb, no emotion on his face as he got an idea.

Red eyeballed Chuck’s house from bottom to top as he got closer to it. It was located at the top, somewhat hidden in the leaves of a very tall tree. Pieces of wood placed strategically around the tree trunk to work as stairs. Usually, he’d just ring and Chuck would get down from there, but he knew Chuck was still upset. He’d never actually been in this house before, so he couldn’t even imagine what Casa de Chuck— its apparent name— would look like. He looked up at his oh-so-close-yet-so-far destination and slurred the one thing on his mind.

“ _Pluck_. More walking.”

When he looked down to start on his only workout for the rest of the month, a loud thud coming from the back of the tree trunk was heard. After flinching, he saw a huge black orb jog then awkwardly stand at the entrance.

“Bomb...”

“Uh, hey Red! My man!”

The sound of leaves up in the trees and in nearby bushes due to a gentle breeze was the only thing to be heard, Red’s barely audible “hey” aside. Bomb already knew what Red would ask. Red already knew what Bomb would answer and either way, they’d still end up where they are right now. Silence between them wasn’t anything new, Red wasn’t good at starting conversations and Bomb wasn’t good at continuing them. Right now it felt like some sort of buffer.

A buffer between Red and finally getting some answers about what happened last night. A hold preventing him from understanding something that he _apparently_ messed up and didn’t know why, and he wasn’t in the mood for this. Chances are he’d never be in the mood for something like this. Who would be?

Not breaking eye contact, Red walked towards Bomb and aimed to just go around him. How hard can it be to start off on the fourth or fifth step? Except he’s still somewhat hungover. And a bit sick. And sleepy. And his legs are too short. How hard can it be to start off on the second step?

But to no avail, Bomb effortlessly grabbed him by the wing and held him in the air, as far enough from his face to avoid getting smacked. Red kicked his legs and one free wing around, much like a child throwing a tantrum, before coming to a halt. A sudden gag tried to creep up his throat after all that moving around, which he swallowed down. Getting sickness from that bit of movement and he was thinking about going up like fifty steps up a high tree? Bomb stared wide eyed until he was done with all of this.

“...Thereyougo!” Bomb quickly placed Red on the ground and braced himself for any impact.

Regaining his balance, Red simply crossed his wings and tilted his head, raising one of his iconic eyebrows questioningly, his beak slightly agape. “ ** _Excuse me?!_** ”

It could’ve sounded like a politely hostile sentence for the way to be cleared. Both knew he just couldn’t believe what had just happened. Bomb looked side to side before shutting his eyes. Their silence from earlier was bad enough. Now Red’s tone of voice— even with how dry his throat was— was close to triggering his sensitivity in a way that made him close to tears. He learned to control his exploding a lot better, so he wondered where he could find somewhere to help stop his tear ducts.

“You mind moving?” Red tapped a foot. “I gotta talk to Chuck. Can you move, _please?_ ” Gritting his teeth by the last word, he briefly thought that Bomb was being _that_ type of insufferable.

“He, uh,” not just struggling to find words, but also an explanation in general. His lying was never convincing. “He can’t talk right now...” Good start. It wasn’t entirely a lie, so. “He’s really sick... Yup. Just totes super sick.” Not really a lie either. Chuck had an overuse of tissues and hadn’t recovered from last night.

Red didn’t buy it for a second. He still played along. “Then I’ll just tell him real quick-“

“Nope! No can do! He’s just _so_ sick he can’t talk at all! Nothing but coughing and other gross noises...” Bomb looks up at the tree hut, nearly blinded by the afternoon sun. No sign of Chuck picking up on what he just put out. He repeated himself. “I said he JUST _COUGHS... AND OTHER GROSS NOISES!_ ”

Red groaned at how he’s so blatant in being a bad liar. Speaking of, it was followed suit by... ridiculous coughing and hacking coming from the right window of the house. Exaggerated _oh_ ’s being thrown out every so often. You could practically hear Chuck melodramatically placing the back of his wing on his forehead as he throws his head back. Did he ever say he wanted to be an actor? If so, he should get a better source of acting tips. Ones that aren’t from amusing telenovelas.

Red’s expression seemed incredulous, yet he wasn’t surprised in the slightest, just sorta insulted that these two would think he’d fall for this. Losing all patience, Red ran as quick as he could (which wasn’t very fast), only to be stopped by Bomb’s leg, his foot shoving Red back to where he started.

Red blinked. “Did... did you just pretty much kick me?”

Bomb couldn’t find any good thing that could’ve come out of answering that. “Chuck can’t talk right now.” He stared off into space. “Please leave a message after the ‘ _beep’_.”

Red found himself also staring at nothingness after the monotone ‘beep’. He inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. “Huh. This was the stupidest conversation I’ve ever had in my life.”

Seeing that Bomb wouldn’t even blink, Red simply turned around and spoke as he walked away. “Okay, my headache got worse, I feel like I’m in purgatory, and also my ass is itchy. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“You want me to tell Chuck all that?”

“ _No, just the last thing, Bomb._ ”

Being able to stop an increasingly angry Red from trespassing made Bomb feel giddy all around, especially with the fact that he wanted to curl up and cry; but he didn’t and he was definitely going to tell his therapist about this progress. He smiled at the idea of becoming as emotionally strong as he is physically.

Then, he felt fear as the bush by his feet seemed to have moved closer to him. Yellow wings made an opening from the inside, revealing a thankful face. “Thanks, Bomb! You’re the best!”

Bomb chuckled. “I guess you could say I’m _the bomb_...!”

...

“I should go home now, shouldn’t I?”

“For sure.”


	3. Through the clouds I see love shine

The first thing Red did once getting back home after yet another failed attempt at trying to get anything out of what’s happening was look around his kitchen. He knew that pills wouldn’t help his increasing headache and that he’ll probably be getting another one later, but he figured he’d at least try. He could take a nap to try and calm it down, but he wasn’t tired. Well, he was in many aspects, but he knew this wouldn’t work.

Just like how he barely slept last night; his thoughts kept him up. Often times when something similar happened, he’d exhaust himself with his anger and eventually fall asleep. There’s also the sad times where he’d cry himself to sleep. He walked towards the couch in his living room, where he sat and flipped through the channels on the TV as he dry-swallowed two pills. The idea of potentially choking on what’s supposed to make him feel better didn’t seem like the worst-case scenario at the moment. It seemed somewhat lovely.

He couldn’t get himself to say he was angry at Chuck. He _was_ for a few reasons, but not in general. He kinda feels angry at himself, but doesn’t understand what it was that made Chuck so upset and he definitely didn’t get why he was so upset that Chuck was so upset. This whole ordeal felt new to him, it felt like it wasn’t going anywhere even if he tried, and he didn’t even know how to react to it in the slightest, aside from annoyance. He slumped in his seat.

He forcefully pressed the buttons on his remote control. Mainly to vent out his frustrations, but also keeping in mind that he can’t throw the remote at the screen like last time. He grit his teeth and stopped at a random channel. Groaning as he turned off the TV, he made his way to his room.

He looked around until he found some paint cans and a canvas given to him by Matilda for an assignment he never did. She scolded him for failing yet again, but he didn’t care; it had something to do with not using brushes and just letting your wings do all the work and he was _not_ going to spend his night cleaning his wings. Why not try it now?

He absentmindedly picked whichever color went first. All that he was focused on was getting some paint on his wings and then smacking it on the canvas in a pleasing way. And it _was_ pleasing; not the way the colors turned out, but the sense of hitting something. It was pleasing at first, at least.

It didn’t take long until his recurring thoughts reappeared and his movements became more scattered. He furrowed his brow at this one paint can already emptying out. He practically punched into the next paint can containing a color that blended with his own feathers and possible blended-in blood that came out of doing that, his knuckles roughly marking the canvas afterwards.

He and Chuck were friends. They always have dumb arguments from time to time, usually one or the other exaggerating, but at the end of they day, it was all okay. They’d talk it out and it was fine.

Hating the way the colors were mixing into the ugliest shade of orange, he grabbed another color and flicked it all over the canvas, the lighter color contrasting with the one primarily there.

He tried talking it out, but Chuck wouldn’t listen. This was all Chuck’s fault. Chuck was the one who wanted to go to a bar. Chuck was the one who got upset he was talking to someone who wasn’t him. Chuck is the one who just constantly wants attention. It’s just all Chuck, all the time. And now he was stuck _worrying_ about Chuck. Apparently, _he_ hurt _Chuck_. Not the other way around, _APPARENTLY_. _Poor Chuck and his poor feelings_. _Always. All the time. Just Chuck and **no one else!**_

Another color on his wing, he aimed to smack it on, but ended up breaking the canvas. He grabbed the whole thing with both wings and snapped it in half with his knee.

Matilda was right. This was calming.

There was still wet paint on his wings. He gently clawed at his palms. Watching some of the colors mix together.

...Why was Chuck upset? _Something_ could be seen in his eyes and that _something_ significantly died out the moment Red said... _something_. He couldn’t remember what it was. Oh, how he wish he remembered right now. Most of that night was such a blur, save for this fiasco.

He knows the obvious conclusion to all of this, but it couldn’t be possible. It just couldn’t be.

Chuck _couldn’t_ have a crush on him. Any other bird, it would’ve been obvious, but this was _Chuck_. It’d be weird if he wasn’t all up in everyone’s personal space and Red didn’t consider for there to be anything different between the two of them. Additionally, Red had figured that no one would be into him and he came to terms with that. He’d also recently figured that if someone _suddenly_ did, it would be because he’s their hero and he didn’t want that type of ache...

...Now that he thinks about it, it’s probably for the best that Chuck got between him and that dude at the bar.

The paint on his wings had mixed together into brown blobs, maybe he’d been looking at it for too long, or maybe it was the sun setting, but suddenly the whole room seemed to be that color. He went to wash his wings, the paint dripping off and the color draining away, the color red seeming to persist for a bit longer than the other colors. It’s not paint.

 

Hours went by as he laid in his nest. Time kinda flies when you’re upset, but he already knew that well enough. He’d spent nearly an hour trying to wrap bandages around one of his right wings’ knuckles in a way that didn’t cut off his circulation or in a way that didn’t make himself want to cut off his own wing entirely.

Reassuring himself that he was going to try again tomorrow wasn’t stopping thoughts from pouring in, not to mention he wasn’t entirely looking forward to his plan. The thoughts weren’t annoying, but eventually they weren’t even about what happened. They were just about Chuck. The way he just talks to everyone and anyone; how he always seems interested in what they have to say and how he’s just good at carrying a conversation, even if he really carries it and it’s just him talking in the end. He never seems to run out of things to say and seems to have knowledge of... pretty much everything. He doesn’t nearly get enough credit for how smart he is and the fact that he apparently has ‘a great memory’ (a bad one). The way there’s just some sort of charm to everything he does, even when he’s annoying. Did Red really miss his company that much? It’s only been a day? And when did it become almost two in the morning?

He turned to his side, eventual sleep seeming further away as he thought of what he self-imposed for in the morning. Thoughts of a yellow bird helped make him feel less irritated. He also felt his face heat up and blamed it on the summer night.

 

* * *

 

There’s something pretty in the fact that, at certain times; the moon will be traded for the sun, the stars will be traded for clouds, and midnight blue will be traded for baby blue. The colors in between either of the cycles are beautiful too. It displays tons of colors that you usually wouldn’t see in the day or the night exclusively. Most seem to miss when it occurs early in the morning. Chuck didn’t get what others meant when they say he tries too hard to wax poetic.

It wasn’t out of place for Chuck to see the sunrise. He could go days without sleeping just fine until he passed out. He likes his beauty sleep though, and tries to take small, minute naps throughout his day. In the light of recent events, it was probably for the best he hadn’t seen himself in the mirror lately.

Even a loud character like him could find something to appreciate about how quiet it is this early, save for the faint chirping of fellow early birds. Grabbing his coffee mug, he made his way to set a seat nearby and look out the window. His designer green bathrobe making him feel warm and cozy.

Something felt off, however. He could feel it in his gut that it wouldn’t be this peaceful for long. Sure enough, a drowsy crimson bird was hesitantly dragging his feet to his place.

And yet, Chuck didn’t feel panic, really. They had to talk at some point and why not now? Chuck had everything under control. Might as well steal Matilda’s place as the local zen hen, he was just _that_ calm. Zen... canary? Zen goldfinch? Mama’s a goldfinch and papa’s a- _Anyway_.

...Or maybe it was the early morning making him feel less harsh about this whole thing.

Red didn’t feel as content, on the other hand.

His vision blurry as he lazily made his way through the opening between the bushes to Chuck’s house. Feeling some deja-vu when he stood in front of the tree yet again, except there wasn’t an big and sweaty bird blocking the entrance this time. He would be overjoyed if he weren’t too busy yawning. He forcefully shook his head. This was his chance to finally get up there, talk things out, and get this out of his head once an for all. He walked up and took his first step.

He toppled over and ended up face down on the following steps. Chuck gasped, his wings helping support the rest of his body as he leaned over the window, worried. He stared for a bit before shutting his formerly agape mouth. He quickly straightened his back and crossed his wings upon realizing what was going on. Red snores very loudly.

Chuck held a wing to his face. _“Oh my god, this guy...”_ It was supposed to be just a thought. Not like Red heard it.

Muttering unusual euphemisms as he put his mug down, Chuck made his way to the door. He reached the bottom of the steps in the blink of an eye. Lightly nudging Red’s side with his foot didn’t help at all. Doing that repeatedly with increasing force wasn’t helping either. Biting his tongue as he used all the self-restraint he had to not kick Red even harder, it would’ve left a mark before it woke him up. Not to mention, he thinks there are bandages on Red’s wing and no amount of justification will _not_ make him feel awful if he hurt him there. Groaning, he quickly positioning Red on his back and zipped back up the tree and into the house.

And that still didn’t wake Red up. If anything, he felt a pleasant breeze as he cozied up on Chuck’s back, his robe currently giving off the perfect softness. He could’ve been sleeping on a rock and seem just as happy, but still.

Chuck’s annoyance evaporated upon seeing what’s happening for what it is on its own, as though taking a step back. It feels like it’s been forever since he hadn’t felt upset by what happened at the bar. It had caused a domino effect and he couldn’t keep the memories out. Repeating _‘I HATE RED’_ internally while the other half of his brain had a million explanations of what he was feeling resulted in a form of ‘they-both-cancel-each-other-out’ numbness where either of those thoughts was ever-present, the other thought making it’s way in immediately after. He had succumbed to what these thoughts were turning him into and how no one (A.K.A. just Bomb) seemed to understand what he was saying.

In a way, he had almost forgotten he has a crush on Red. Thinking of the present rather than the past felt like a breath of fresh air.

Now his lovey-dovey feelings came back full-force by seeing a sleeping cardinal currently resting on him, not even caring that there’s probably drool getting on his exclusive, name-embroidered cashmere bathrobe.

And it took all his strength to not squeal.

He cleared his throat and tried to keep an uncharacteristically calm composure. He was still trying to seem completely mad at Red, after all. His excited vibrations couldn’t be contained, however, and that seemed to have woken Red up, who embarrassingly stumbled off of his back.

Taking a moment to look at his surroundings, Red was mainly just glad to be here at all and with little effort on his part. Casa de Chuck looked... normal and very tidy, actually. Nothing like Red was expecting, not like he had anything particular in mind to begin with. The only thing in it that screamed Chuck was the indoor track that seemed like an unfinished second floor. Not a Mighty Eagle poster in sight, unlike his own hut.

Was that a painting of himself? He made a mental note that he’ll probably forget about to ask Chuck about that.

Red cleared his throat. “Well, first off— hi. I got here as early as possible so that you don’t pull a Bomb on me again. Secondly, I haven’t really slept in nights, so don’t freak if I faceplant again.”

Chuck rolled his eyes. _‘I haven’t slept in weeks.’_

Red crossed his wings. “Yeah, well. I’m not _you._ ”

“...I said that out loud?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

Both birds avoided eye contact for an eternal minute as they stood in silence until Red spoke again. “Lastly, you know what I’m here to talk about.”

Fidgeting with his $345 robe’s sash, Chuck continued not looking at the other bird, instead crossing his wings and facing to the side with a “hmph!”

Red tapped his foot impatiently. “Oh, don’t try to act all sassy with me!”, he said while putting one wing on his hip as best as he could with his bandages, the other used to point at the bird in front of him. “You embarrassed me and just flockin’ left when I got mad, so _excuse me_ for not finding that any damn funny!”

Chuck groaned while flailing his wings up and feeling like screaming. “You really need me to say it, huh?!” He inhaled deeply and exhaled in a split second. “ _Fine_. But if you _still_ don’t get it afterwards, I’m gonna...” His eye twitched as he left the sentence unfinished. “I like you. I, Chuck, _like you, Red_. In fact, I probably love you,” he used his wing to prod Red’s chest. “ _A lot_... You _know_ I’m constantly trying to get next to you, You know _very_ well I’m always in your personal space. You know I do tons of things like _kiss your face. Hello?!_ I think I make my flirting pretty obvious, thankyouverymuch! Like, how much more obvious can I get?! Then you and that guy-“

“Hold on, you-“

“ _I’mMM **NOT DONE YET!**_ You just... You were so mad that I got between you and some guy you didn’t even know? Since when do you like random birds like that, but not birds you’re friends with? Then, you said...” He puts his fingers on his eyebrows to make them look bushier. “ ** _‘Pfft. Then who, you?’_ **...Why?! What’s so funny about me liking you? You even outright laughed, you were that hammered. Why didn’t you say anything when you realized I like you instead of just letting me keep on flirting like an idiot?! Do you know what it’s like to be so into someone and have them make you feel awful for that... Especially when you had no idea they even knew? ‘Cuz it really sucks, Red.”

Red felt his stomach being twisted as guilt kept punching out whatever points he had previously thought to argue. He didn’t even know where to start with what was just put out there. An ‘I’m sorry’ is the start for when you genuinely feel remorse, and god did he ever, but he didn’t know where to go from there. On top of that, he didn’t want to get Chuck closer to tears.

Eventually, he quietly spoke up. “I... I didn’t think you seriously liked me...” He immediately wished he hadn’t.

“... ** _SEE?!_** ” Chuck felt the muscles of his face tremble as he lost all composure and tears began to stream down. “Y-You just think I’m a-a-a joke-“

“Hold on,” Red quickly put his wings out in defense. “Hold on, just- just hear me out.” He held his wings together as he struggled to find the words. Right now, it was either trying to find words that got his point across, searching for words that wouldn’t make Chuck cry more, or throwing himself out the window. The window sure seemed nice right now and he felt like he deserved it. “I’m... I... You know how I’ve always been alone. I don’t think I ever had a good conversation with anyone until I met you guys. You being so... _you_ was just as overwhelming for me as any other conversation I had. Someone being anywhere near me pretty much felt the same as your face being inches from mine. I couldn’t really see any difference between how you are with me and how touchy you get with others, I guess...”

Chuck’s face calmed down some while Red continued. “But honestly, all that aside... I probably still wouldn’t have put that together. Now I was thinking about how birds would probs be into me just for being a hero, I couldn’t get your hints, and that just leaves Bomb, who’s just... okay, I guess? ‘Suppose I lowkey assumed I’d die alone, heh. I mean, who would even like me?” He shrugged while looking off to the side before quickly facing his friend again. “Uh, no offence.”

Holding back the impulse to proclaim a billion reasons why Red is wonderful, Chuck felt more personally insulted by Red’s casual self-deprecation. His heart skipped a beat by Red gently placing a wing on his shoulder as he finished. “Hey— still, this isn’t my pity party. I’m sorry for all this and I get it if you still don’t wanna talk to me. I know I’ve stayed locked in my room for _weeks_ after someone pissed me off _that_ badly.”

Chuck’s expression softened, as did Red’s, and he calmly exhaled as butterflies in his stomach were felt for the first time in an eternity. Stimming with the hem of his... he had a coupon and got the robe 80% off. The notion of Red taking the time to best explain where he’s coming from rather than yelling about the mostly-false venom thrown at him previously lets Chuck know just how much he means it. It lets Chuck know that he really does care, even if romantic feelings don’t seem to be mutual. For now, at least...

Failing to stiffen his giggles, Chuck promptly jumped in the air at the speed of light and wrapped his wings around Red’s neck, his strong-enough grip letting it be the support he needed to stay off of the ground. Regaining his balance, Red intuitively used his arms to prop Chuck up and make their sudden pose a lot more comfortable for both of them. Lightly chuckling and sighing in relief, Red knew for sure he really missed his friend’s eccentric, offbeat self.

Chuck stops his embrace to face Red with large pupils and an increasingly warm smile. Red momentarily wonders if the Billy apology made his own heart beat this fast.

“Apology accepted!” Chuck chirped. “I’m so so _sooo_ sorry, too! And I really shouldn’t’ve gotten so jealous over you just talking to a guy.”

Red eased his wings up Chuck’s waist to gently put him back on his feet, looking at him fondly. “Don’t worry about it, man,” he playfully elbows Chuck’s side. “Kinda did me a favor. Guy wasn’t even _that_ cute.”

Once their snickering is finished, Chuck jokingly elbows him back. “Hey, I’m being serious! I made you go through all that when you weren’t even mine to begin with and I assumed you were being a jerk! I should’ve just let you stay home, like you wanted to!”

“Well if you did, we wouldn’t be here... doing... uh...”

A million thoughts rush to Chuck’s mind in the seconds after he realizes that Red seems to be leaning in. Chuck’s eyes opening up more as Red’s get more half-lidded, to the point of closing completely. Red quickly pulls back, shaking his head. Chuck is thankful he himself was practically paralyzed or else he would’ve puckered up.

Red scratches the back of his head. “Sorry about that. Y’know, haven’t really slept in like... two nights. Plus the hangover ‘n I woke up early today, so.” Chuck takes note of his bloodshot eyes and nods.

Clapping his wings together, Chuck made an offer he knew his crush would at least consider. “Aw, well you could always nap over here!” He signaled towards his beloved hammock, much like a gameshow host’s lovely assistant showing off this week’s prize, and grinned at Red accepting his invitation.

Chuck led towards and helped Red get on his hammock. “Enjoy your stay at Casa de Chuck!” Waggling his eyebrows as he cheerfully sang one last remark before making his way elsewhere. “You’re _always_ welcome!”

After rolling his eyes at that, Red found it a struggle to decipher a comfortable sleeping position in this thing. He didn’t want to call Chuck up for help, not just because it seemed like he was busy running in his track, or because Red was embarrassed that he needed help, but also because there was a possibility that Chuck would use this as an opportunity to cuddle up with him in it... Actually, putting that thought into words, it now seemed like a bit of a stretch. Why did he think of that in the first place? It didn’t even seem like that bad... Subconsciously finding a good position, he drifted off into the best sleep he could remember; basically the only sleep he felt like he’d gotten at all lately.


	4. It Keeps Me Warm As Life Grows Colder

It was quiet.

This forest was more than a few miles away from the village and the others typically didn’t see any reason to _not_ be in the village. No obnoxiously loud bird would be here, but this didn’t feel right. Not even the leaves or their steps made any sound.

Red didn’t know why they were here either, but Chuck led the way.

Both of them were quiet; no quips, no sass, no complaining or questions, no hyping up their destination or non-stop babbling. What seemed previously eerie took a sudden shift in tone as sunlight managed to show among the trees.

Red takes notice of how his and Chuck’s wings are intertwined as they walk past trees. He looks back up and makes eye contact with Chuck, who brings his other wing to his face and looks away bashfully.

The sunlight seems to make Chuck shine in a way he’s never seen on anyone else. In fact, it seems like he’s the only thing in Red’s sight.

As their eyes met again, Red just realized how pretty the color green is. Specifically, the yellowish-green in Chuck’s eyes. Not the green of pigs. Or any other shade of green there is, for that matter.

They finally make it to their destination. Grass for miles and anything else just barely seen in the distance. Red can’t seem to figure out how they got there in the blink of an eye. He can’t recall on which part of the island they’re in. It feels like a different place altogether, not someplace near the forest they were previously in.

He sits down on the meadow as his thoughts are interrupted by an orange beak making contact with his cheek, making him squeak.

Yellow wings make their way up Red’s face, meanwhile Red’s mouth dries up and he finds it a lot harder to swallow. He was shushed upon trying to get a word out, which mainly came out as a series of incoherent stuttering.

More pecks were placed all over his face. The one peck placed on his beak seeming to linger for longer than the rest. Red could swear he was about to melt. Literally, looking down at his wing for a moment, was it actually melting? Why... Why wasn’t he more horrified of this happening? Does Chuck realize he’s kissing a melting bird?

Pulling away, Chuck smirked at how Red’s eyes were more open than they’d ever been.

Smirking, Chuck places his wings on Red’s chest and a breeze is felt as he gently pushes him down on the grass with a—

**_THUD._ **

This was a really tough meadow, with no grass or dirt or bugs. It felt rather cold for what a sunny day it seemed. In fact, it wasn’t even a meadow at all and Red opened his eyes to find out he was face down on wooden tiles.

The shadow before him wasn’t his own, but belonged to a very concerned Chuck; who ran towards him and hurriedly asked if he was alright. Red was, in fact, not alright if him falling on the floor hard enough for his face to heat up this much was anything to go by. He feels as though that though isn’t 100% correct, but he pushes other alternatives down, for the time being. His face does hurt though. First his wing and now this.

Chuck shook his head. “I knew I should’ve given you my inflatable nest!” Extending his wing to help his friend up seemed like the first logical thing to do right now. With a blink, he stared off into space due to being hit with the fact that there is a very high chance that Red will hold his wing. Obviously, but... _Red was about to hold his wing._ It’s happened before, but still.

Red stared at the wing before him, suddenly finding it harder than before to just touch it. After spending eternity-long seconds looking at and then holding on to a yellow wing with his one good wing, Red got on his feet and smiled nervously. “N-Never slept in one of those before...” He cleared his throat.

Chuck smiled. “You get used to it! At least, I like it better than sleeping in a nest. I just really like rocking back and forth, meanwhile a nest is just so flat! Then again, I don’t really sleep all that much and nests aren’t meant for me to move around, not like that anyway!” Nearly simultaneously, both birds noticed their wings still holding onto each other, the longest seconds ever passed as they looked back up at each other.

Red was the first to remove his wing, which disappointed both of them. Chuck decided to continue the conversation. Clasping his wings, he wanted to get feedback on his friend’s Casa de Chuck experience. “So, did you sleep well?”

Red looked at him as though he had just grown another head. “It sure was... something.” He internally blamed the fall from a few minutes ago for his face heating up again. Then, he internally kicked himself for just thinking that when he’s very well aware of what was going on.

It made sense to have a dream about Chuck considering the events that had gone down. Obviously, something needed to happen to make him think about Chuck even _more_ and what better way than having a dream about someone in such a way that makes you have a crush on them for a few hours?

‘Crush’ wasn’t the word Red would’ve used to describe it. It was infatuation.

It’ll all be over in a few hours. Just a few hours.

 _“Reeed,”_ trying to get his attention, Chuck dragged his name out. “Was it good? Do you need anything? Is your face okay, ‘cause like, you hit the floor pretty hard. I mean, you _fell on_ the floor pretty hard, not that you danced. Though, you dancing sounds nice! Oooh, we should go dancing next time we go out! I MEAN, n-next time we hang out- Uh- We aren’t dat- I’m-“ He lightly hit his fists together in frustration, which Red found somewhat... cute. “...Do you need anything?”

A string of words that Red did not mean to escape from his beak promptly escaped from his beak. “Er... Five out of five, would stay here again, but I need to get going now...”

Exaggeratedly, Chuck’s posture slouched. “Oh.” Well, he kinda (really) wanted to spend at least a little time with the bird he just confessed to earlier. Was that so wrong?

Taking a few steps towards the door felt like a lot of time went by, Red felt as if a force was pulling him back and it wasn’t just his hesitation on walking down all those steps. Calculating just how much he’d break if he happened to ‘accidentally’ fall down and reach the bottom quicker felt... not right. Not just because of the obvious, but also because Red knew in the back of his head that there was something he still needed to do while up here.

“Chuck!” He called out while walking back in through the door.

Chuck stopped halfway going back up a ladder, which led to the indoor track he had built in his house. Presumably, he’d just been running the whole time Red was asleep and was now getting back to doing that. Red swallowed, now realizing he _had_ to ask what was on his mind.

“...You wanna... go eat breakfast? I mean, this is usually around the time I have it and it’s probably too late for you, so we could have lunch...” Cringing at how bad he felt his invitation was, he was thankful for Chuck’s increasing smile for letting him know that he doesn’t need to talk any longer.

“ ** _OHMYGOD_** , I-“ Chuck realized he had jumped off of the ladder at some point, the realization of this and his excitement made him reach the floor, a few inches in front of Red. Desperate probably wasn’t something you’d want your crush to think you are, at least that’s what he read in a magazine. “Uh, ...I’d love that...,” he felt an idea appear in his head.

Not even getting a syllable in, Red felt the sides of his torso being grabbed. “Whoa there!” One blink and he was up in the air. Another blink and his eyes closed for impact. He felt himself sitting on something. Something that felt far too jittery. “...Ouch...”

Chuck looked behind him. “You can hold my head feathers for security!”

“...Y’know, I’d kinda want a warning before being put in a piggyback ride. Y’know. For next time.”

As Chuck went to take a step, Red held on to the feathers like he was told to, knowing that what he just said was ignored. The next few seconds felt like a blur as a breeze took over him while he screamed. The kind that would’ve made his eyes watery had it gone on for any longer. Closing his eyes, he grasped Chuck’s body for support, surprisingly not falling off of him.

“We’re already down, but I appreciate the hug!” Chuck’s smile grew even more as his face became warmer, giggling to himself.

Stopping his screaming, Red’s eyes snapped open, getting off of Chuck as quickly as possible. Two grown men in this position, in public, would’ve created some murmurs from other birds that Red didn’t want to think about. Not that he cared about what others think— he just wouldn’t want this to become some sort of habit, and with someone who’s just a friend, no less.

Walking side by side, Chuck grinned at Red, who gave a small smile back, in spite of what just happened.

The two made their way to Early Bird Worms, which Red always had some resentment towards, considering he had to wake up early if he wanted to eat any worms during the day and they were usually all sold out by the time he usually wakes up. Don’t even get him started on how you have to pay extra if you want something with worms in it that isn’t _just_ plain worms.

The line was relatively short, it was already around noon and most birds had already gotten what they wanted to order by now. Chuck had a few worms set aside just for him, which made Red wonder if he planned for both of them to come here. He paid for both of their meals, making Red blush, which led Red to mentally reassure himself that this cru- _infatuation_ will be over soon enough. This isn’t a date! Who said this was a date? Not Red, that’s for sure!

Making their way to an outdoor table located at the top of the place with their food, Red brought up how he had worked there at one point (and how much he hated it), which led to chatting about past jobs they’ve both had.

Chuck picked up another worm from his bowl with chopsticks. “So when I agreed to babysit, I thought it would be this cute little hatchling, right?” He spoke with a mouthful. “Wasn’t expecting the kid to be nearly my age! How old did his mom think I am?!”

Red took a bite out of his sandwich. “This one time, some lady asked me to look after her kid,” he swallowed. “And the egg wasn’t even hatched yet. Just sitting my ass down on an egg on a Friday night.”

“A _hem._ ”

Red raised an eyebrow. “...Sitting my _butt_ down?”

“I would’ve preferred ‘tush’ or ‘booty’.”

Red rolled his eyes, albeit lovingly.

He placed his sandwich down quickly. Whining at one of his wings cramping up made Chuck notice, who promptly reached over to stroke it gently. Red’s pupils couldn’t possibly get any bigger at the moment. Chuck stared at the bandages. “I noticed you had it, but I didn’t think about when it must’ve happened! Did you get into a fight with someone?! At least they didn’t get to your beautiful face!” A gasp escaped from his mouth. “You didn’t do this to yourself, did you?”

“Uh,” looking away as Chuck’s expression grew more worried, Red took a big bite of his sandwich. “Esh wathnt un puhpush,” he spoke.

“Red! Stop stalling!”

Red gulped. “Okay, it kinda was on purpose, but I was mad and not thinking and I didn’t think punching into it would hurt this bad...”

“...You did this because you were mad at me...”

Red couldn’t exactly pick up on the tone of Chuck’s voice, which made finding the right words for what to say next a lot harder. “I-I-I was! I was. But this was my fault a-and I regretted doing this because what you did was for the best. It feels a lot better now, actually.”

Eye bags became more noticeable on Chuck, his out-of-character voice making a return. “Red, I’m really sorry I didn’t want to talk to you sooner.”

Red sighed. “Don’t be! It’s all good now, man. All good. Now, come on. Finish your worms and we’ll hang out around the village, deal?”

Chuck’s voice remained, but his expression softened. “Deal.”

After their meal, the two spent more time together walking around. They’d both already seen basically everything there is to be seen, doing that with a friend just gives a different feel to it, even if this wasn’t their first time walking around together either.

They were stopped in their tracks by the crossingbird due to tons of hatchlings of all shapes and sizes. Well, ranging from small roundish-square or roundish-triangle to slightly bigger roundish-square or roundish-triangle crossing the road. They happily toddle, some stumbling, in line behind a mama bird who can’t _possibly_ have all these as her children.

One might expect some bird like Red to find their cavity-inducing cuteness to be utterly disgusting, but he didn’t. He never did. If anything, he mainly felt annoyed by parents and how their lives just seemed to revolve around eggs. However, he can’t have that mentality anymore, not after all he went through for just one egg that wasn’t even his.

Hatchlings just always seemed to be drawn to him and it felt nice for what it lasted. Now he’s basically considered an honorary uncle to many of them. Looking at them makes him feel like he’s supposed to remember something, but he can’t place his wing on what it is.

Meanwhile, Chuck made it his job to wave at or gently pat the heads of all the hatchlings walking by. Some even stepped out of line to hug Chuck before waddling as much as their tiny feet could to keep up. He knew nearly all of their names, presumably because of his babysitting jobs and taking more than one shift at a time made him meet more kids.

Red doesn’t know when he started to look at Chuck endearingly during this. The crossingbird noticed and gave Red a knowing smile, which led him to immediately run a wing through the feathers on his head as he whistled innocently and pretended to look at something elsewhere. The crossingbird giggled and then giggled some more at seeing him pout angrily.

Seeing as he wasn’t paying attention when all the hatchlings crossed, Chuck held Red’s wing to move along. Red couldn’t think of a word to describe what he was feeling. He impulsively looked back at the crossingbird, who chuckled to herself and winked at him.

Eventually Chuck let go of his wing, but that didn’t stop a ringing in the back of Red’s mind.

A small gift stand was nearby, mainly composing of simple holiday presents to get someone on short notice. The bird who runs it had quite the look going on; white feathers, round pink markings all over, and two curled red head feathers. A cutesy contrast to the dark circles under their eyes, which was probably in part to being tired and not markings. That bird seems like they’d rather be anywhere but there.

Chuck rapidly waved at the bird as he walked by. What caught Red’s attention was that the bird’s expression softened in the slightest and waved back.

“Is that a friend of yours?”

“Kinda? You sorta bond with someone when you visit their store every other day. I haven’t gone in a long while, though! Also, I think they’re still mad I was the reason their Valentine’s stuff was out of stock for a while.” They sat on a bench close by.

“Didn’t know you were so into that holiday.” Red didn’t like the thought of Chuck getting so many Valentine’s gifts for a special someone. Red also didn’t like the fact that he didn’t like the thought of Chuck getting so many Valentine’s gifts for a special someone.

If this was just the infatuation speaking, Red feared what he would’ve felt if it were actually a crush. Come to think of it, all he’s feeling right now aligns with what he thinks he’d be feeling if this _were_ a crush. How strange...

“Well... I didn’t buy it specifically for that day... I just used to buy cutesy romantic stuff for my boyfriends- actually, I’m pretty sure they were just one-time dates, but I always called all of them that. ‘Boyfriends’ is a cute word, if I do say so myself.” He looked at the ground somewhat hurt, yet tried his best to sound as peppy as usual. “They didn’t last long... I’d just get so excited I wanted to buy them everything!”

Red wondered how one could say something so negative in a positive tone. Then he realized that he does that too, and he knows that he sure would love for someone to comfort him whenever he did. Before he could say anything back, Chuck continued. “Actually, I didn’t even want to date most of those guys! I just wanted someone to hang out with, but that message didn’t send all that well to, like,... everyone. Heck, sometimes I’d end up dating ladies because of that! I just wanted tons of pals ...and a hot boyfriend. Was that so much to ask?!”

“Hey, wait. Backtrack that a bit. You didn’t want to date them?”

“I mean... I wanted to date some, but for the most part, I just wanted some pals. They’d usually think I was asking them out, so I just... I dunno, went all out with the romance?” Chuck rested his face in his wings. “Ugh... Why am I like this?”

Not being able to relate, Red said what sounded the best at the moment. “You’ll find the right one someday. I’m sure of it.” He paused. He definitely did not mean to say that last part out loud.

Chuck’s posture stiffened as he snickered. “ ‘ _Sure of it’ ...?_ ” He smirked and scooted closer to Red. “ _Aaand_ why, exactly, are you _so_ sure of it, hmm?”

Red could feel Chuck’s breath and tried to not make eye contact. “B-Because you’re pretty cool... I’m sure that puts you right up someone’s alley...”

Chuck burst into laughter and playfully nudged him while now keeping a distance between them again. “Aww, I’m just messing with ya! Buuut, you know I wouldn’t mind if you _really_ are... _y’know_...,” he made fingerguns towards Red, his flirtatious expression quickly changing into his usual cheery one by his following sentence. “I mean, I smacked you earlier with how I felt and you take like a billion years to figure out romance stuff, so you wouldn’t know _that_ right now, right?”

“Hah... Of course not...” Red smiled worryingly and aimed to change the subject, not noticing Chuck’s smirk and half-lidded eyes. “S-So uh, you... you only went on dates with those birds, right?” He didn’t mean to say that out loud either. His filter didn’t catch that this was a question he didn’t want a direct answer to for some reason. He more or less already figured it out by now and didn’t want to hear verbal confirmation.

Chuck leaned back in his seat. “Yeah?” He tried all he could to stop a grin from starting.

“ _Only_ dates?” Red knew deep down what the answer to that would be. He knew that it wouldn’t be all that surprising at all. And yet, he still opened his beak to ask that _and_ to clarify what he meant. “Like, ...just going somewhere, you talk, and it didn’t work out and that’s that, right?”

“...Red,” a smug smile spreading on his face as he tilted his head. “We both know you can’t possibly be _that_ dense.”

Red felt something drop in his stomach. “...With the guys, huh?”

“Yeah well, I never got that far with ladies... Not that I wanted to, anyway. I think that every guy I _wanted_ to date just did that with me and we never saw each other again... Why you ask?”

“...I feel like we’ve been sitting on this bench forever. We should probably keep walking,” Red muttered.

Chuck put the final nail in the coffin. “You wanna be the next guy?” He laughed as Red’s face heated up and as he choked on nothing. “Kid-ding! Kidding! I just couldn’t help it! You’re just so fun to tease and admit it, you kinda walked into that one. You do seem _verrry_ interested, just sayin’!”

Red angrily got off of his seat, but they both knew he wasn’t actually going to leave. Crossing his arms, he walked a few steps while Chuck caught up and overly dramatically begged for forgiveness. His inability to contain his giggling while speaking was proven to be contagious as Red found himself unable to keep his upset demeanor for much longer.

Before taking any more steps, a large shadow sneaked up behind them and attacked them in the form of a bone-crushing hug. “Hey, guys! I didn’t know you two were here!” Bomb immediately settled them down, as if realizing something. Putting a wing to the side of his beak, he quietly spoke. “Am I interrupting your date or...”

“No, no,” Red started. “We were just... We’re, uh...”

Chuck piped in. “We made out- I MEAN, up! And just decided to have lunch together!” He smiled. “As _friends_ do!” He winked at Bomb.

“Ah,” Bomb pretended to get it. “Oh! Red, some guy at the bar the other night asked me if I knew you and I was like ‘yeah’. He was, like, purple? I mean, that _he_ was purple, not that he said ‘purple’. Anywho, he asked if you two are a thing and I can’t really remember what I said, but I do know I mentioned how much Chuck likes you. Like _really_ really likes you-“

“Bomb!” Chuck intervened. “You’re _lucky_ Red already knows,” he spoke while gritting his teeth.

Bomb perked up. “Ohh, so you two _are_ dating!” He clapped his wings. “I can’t wait to be an uncle! Just don’t have _too_ many kids. Also! I wanted to tell you about this store-“

Red interrupted. “Then what happened?!”

“I’m... about to explain about the store. I’m excited about my store too, Red, but-“

Red deadpanned. “What happened with the guy at the bar, Bomb. The guy.”

Bomb deflated a bit. “Hm, well he looked sorta annoyed? Then he huddled up with his pals and I dunno what they said. Something about a pet or a bet? And then one of them went on to talk to some other bird while his pals waited to see what happened. Oh! I think one of them had a camera, but I don’t know why!” He stood while his friends stared in silence. “So, not much. I guess?”

Chuck looked at the ground as he put a few pieces together in his mind. Looking back up, he could tell Red did —and regretted— doing the same.

A part of him wanted to feel smug for possibly saving Red by getting between him and the guy, for knowing that that guy gave off bad vibes from the start- which definitely was _not_ his own jealousy. A part of him mostly felt scared for whatever Red could be feeling right now. Red most likely remembered what the guy looked like even with how drunk he was, would he plan something to hurt the guy now? Would he be facing the (hot) wrath of Red?

Instead, what Chuck got wasn’t what he was expecting.

“I’m...” Red’s tongue suddenly weighted down, making it hard to get words out. “...Glad... that you told me...” Chuck paid attention to how Red’s voice slightly wavered and how he cleared his throat.

Maybe the guy would be getting the (hot) wrath of Chuck instead. A (hot) wrath being that someone looks hot when they’re angry, but whatever it is their doing will be very painful for someone else. Not that something hot will happen. Ew.

Sometimes, Bomb wished he had whatever it was that their friends did that allowed them to speak telepathically. At least, that’s what he’s always assumed they were doing whenever they were this quiet for so long. He just talked about his store and it didn’t get the feedback he wanted... He didn’t get any feedback at all. In fact, Chuck rolled his eyes at him. He never liked being this out of the loop, but now was his chance to get things back to the way they were.

Bomb had other friends, sure, but... these two were so cool. They get him. Well, they really don’t get him and he doesn’t get them either, but there’s some level of understanding that isn’t present in his other friends.

“Hey, since this _isn’t_ a date, we should do something together! Just the three of us! Ooh, let’s go to the Nap Bar! It’s my favorite!“

“Bomb.” Chuck interjected.

“Oooh, that’s right. You’re banned from there. Hm.” As Bomb thought, Red mouthed ‘Banned... from the nap bar...’ in disbelief.

Trying to think of a place the three of them could go to ended up being much harder than Bomb thought it would be. None of them were hungry, some spots were boring, and the three of them realized just how many places on the island either of them was banned from. Chuck and Red’s reasons for that were mostly their anger resulting in inappropriate behavior at a given time, Red’s reasons also included being fired from a job and him not wanting to step foot in those establishments ever again (not that they’d particularly want him in them there again), Bomb’s reasons made himself sad; he was a good sport! He just couldn’t handle his spontaneous combustion!

In the end, seeing as they were already aimlessly walking, walking aimlessly seemed like the one thing they could agree on and that they could actually do and that seemed as good enough as anything else.

They walked past a weird stand that consisted of weird decor; the tent made the inside of it dim, the only light coming from lava lamps of different colors, flowers and peace signs everywhere, alien drawings, lots of stuff and yet nothing for sale.

The trio had no idea of what this... alien hippie lady was going for. Even Matilda would think this is a bit extra for a hippie.

“You three!” Her pointing and sudden acknowledgement of anything around her making the three simultaneously flinch. “I feel an amount of energy being emitted from one of you!”

Bomb and Chuck both expressed their delight towards possible magic abilities. “That might be how much you creep me out, lady,” Red snarked.

The bird bent her back to get uncomfortably close to Red’s face, him cringing while trying to turn away. “I feel _love._ ” Red felt his heart drop to his stomach.

The lady immediately straightened her posture to point at Bomb. “It’s coming from the big one over there.”

“Me?” Bomb gestured towards himself, trying to think back on what it could mean. “I mean, I’m excited about starting a job I’ve wanted for a while, so I guess I do feel some love? Hm... I got a letter from my moms, so I _do_ feel love! You’re right!”

Chuck tilted his head at how the lady must be a fake, considering he’s standing next to the bird he love love _loves_ the most and considering how this was so totally a date, his heart was _soaring._ Fake magical hippie lady.

While they quickly walked away from the weird stand, Red felt relieved, he didn’t get why.

His mind had immediately gone to romantic love when the weird lady said that. He wouldn’t care if Bomb liked someone, he already knows Chuck likes him, so that just leaves himself. But he didn’t feel romantic love for anyone, did he?

There was Chuck— No, there _wasn’t_ Chuck. That’s just his infatuation after that... dream, right? It was just the dream... And dreams always mean what you want- _no_ , they _don’t_ mean what you want they...

His head hurts, things seem blurry, and a breeze made his heart pound at the rate of Chuck’s running. The Chuck comparison made it speed up even more. What was happening to him?

“You okay, buddy?” Bomb put a wing on Red’s head, petting his tuft of feathers. Chuck momentarily glared at Bomb for doing that before giving a worried look towards Red.

“I- Uh,” his off-beat breathing contributed to his head pounding.

Chuck gasped as he ran to hold Red’s face, which made Red’s situation worse, seeing as he enjoyed this. Or at least, he would if he weren’t trying to leave. “Did the weird lady put some spell on you? Are you choking? How many fingers am I holding up?!” Red shut his eyes as he grabbed Chuck’s face as well, but to get him off of him.

Red swallowed while looking for an excuse. “I... forgot to take some medicine... My hut’s over there, so I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Running there; he shut the door, leaned his back against it, and found it easier to calm down his near-hyperventilating. As he slid down against the door, he thought back on what caused him to have his little freak out.

He would have been screaming at what he just realized, but he didn’t. It made sense and it’s been amounting, it’s just that the dream was what finally got him to come to terms with it... More or less.

A flash of potential scenarios appeared in his mind in the blink of an eye. He allowed himself to chuckle at this before resting his face in his wings. “Oh, pluck.”


	5. I Wanna Know What Love Is

Chuck likes his beauty sleep. However, those were usually short naps. Short, second-long naps.

The fact that he tried actually sleeping was new, but he thought that it would be the easiest way for time to go by quickly. Running a hundred laps in his indoor track would’ve been fun, but he wanted to be fully rested. Less than a minute would go by if he just did a dozen laps, so he wouldn’t _really_ feel the adrenaline from running so much.

Or something.

Time wasn’t exactly something Chuck knew much about, especially with how it goes for him and his velocity versus any other bird. It got even more complicated when it came to internal aspects, such as birds needing to digest their food for at least thirty minutes before going swimming. Chuck’s body worked in a way where he’d only need about two minutes.

In the end, Chuck laid in his beloved hammock, his wish of just going to sleep for more than a few seconds never being fulfilled. The night went on longer as he thought about all that could go on the next day. He didn’t know what was going on with Red last time they hung out, but Chuck had his suspicions. Suspicions which point to Red liking him back. He didn’t know at what point Red must’ve found that out, but Chuck wasn’t just going to let this slide due to the off chance that Red might take a lifetime to act out on it. Chuck knows well that Red took nearly two decades to come to terms with a _certain thing_. And Chuck hopes that that _certain thing_ wouldn’t come into play right now. The _certain thing_ being that Red is gay.

Chuck thought that _that_ was obvious, really.

Thinking of everything—positive— from date ideas to romantic gifts to an ideal wedding to darling orange-feathered triangular hatchlings, to anniversaries and honeymoons and growing old together, Chuck found his night to be moving... still aggressively slow. As though the night was mocking him for being so excited. He had it all planned out— he was gonna meet up with Red (and Bomb) by the Main Street of the village, make the moves on Red, and just flat out ask him out.  Red, in the seemingly flustered mood he had, will most likely say yes...

 ~~And if Red suddenly snapped out of it for whatever reason and rejected him, then Chuck would say that he was just kidding.~~ Chuck wasn’t thinking of that. He was gonna do it and it’ll be great!

Hours later (probably), Chuck perked up at the sight of the sun coming up. He could write poems about the sunrise; he _has_ , but anger management classes let him know that others didn’t find it as interesting as he did. He never got why others didn’t find it cool how the entire sky just... changes colors! Like, it just does that! It also made him reminisce about the last time he stared at how nice the sun rising was. Except this time, there wasn’t a sleep-deprived Red making his way to the treehouse.

Chuck groaned at remembering the fact that he needed to do more waiting considering birds slept in past this time. He also never got why others would just sleep in and make their day a lot shorter. He knows that sometimes Red sleeps in until the afternoon, stays up for a few hours, and then goes to sleep again just fine. Chuck’s always thought that Red would go into hibernation if he could. If anyone needed more sleep, it would’ve been... well, Chuck himself, but he didn’t need more than a few seconds of sleep to fully recharge. Aside from him, it would be Bomb. Sleepovers at Bomb’s house made Chuck realize just how many nightmares Bomb has, which always lead to him exploding.

Chuck won’t forget the time he accidentally scared Bomb to the point of exploding when trying to get a glass of water during a sleepover; the room wasn’t even dark and he was in plain sight.

Eventually, it was 9:00 AM and Chuck figured that this is _still_ probably too early for his friends to be around, but it meant that at least some stands and stores are open and he could kill time there. Maybe some establishments finally unbanned him.

Getting a quick stretch and a nice seedshake in beforehand, Chuck zipped out of his house and into the village. Looking around, nothing seemed all that interesting; closed store, closed store, boring stand, store he’s banned from, closed stand, boring store he’s definitely not against just because they banned him from it for no reason or anything, cl- _There!_

Early Bird Worms had a ridiculously long line as usual around this time, which was perfect to waste time _and_ good to know you’re actually getting something out of it in the end. His stomach grumbled, practically forcing him into getting in line now, to which he happily obliged.

There Chuck stood, being the only face with a bright smile in this sea of drowsy birds waiting alongside him. He stimmed by repeatedly shifting between standing normally and standing on his tiptoes in a bouncing motion. He didn’t even care if he would be here for hours, it just meant that by the time he gets his breakfast, it’ll be closer to the time he’s gonna meet up with Red, and then they’ll get together, and get married, and be together forever and ever and ever.

Chuck blinked and came to a realization.

One minute and thirty seconds was entirely too long for one to be waiting in line. His stimming turned into one of frustration rather than one of excitement due to the extreme lack of any moving. Not even seeing Red in his peripheral vision could-

_Red! Red Red Red!_

Chuck’s squee in delight did nothing but make the other birds in line slightly flinch in response and return to their half-asleep status. Seeing Red nearly running made Chuck hold his wings together near his heart. It made him melt. ~~He was running towards Chuck, right?~~ Of course he was running towards Chuck! Why wouldn’t... he... ?

Jogging past several stands, Red turned his head to make sure his mind wasn’t playing a trick on him. With all that was going on... it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary for him to just hallucinate Chuck, especially when he has things to do. There was, indeed, Chuck standing nearby, whom Red waved at without stopping his pacing.

Chuck felt something in his throat, something between a grunt and a scream. The bird behind him was too asleep to realize that they now need to move up one space in this line.

Turning to face forward, Red promptly shrieked due to Chuck suddenly appearing in front of him. The message got to his legs just in time for him to stop rather than have them topple over.

Their faces being inches away from each other gave off a different kind of feeling. One where it seemed like someone muted the entire world, save for their breathing.

Remembering that he can move, Red took a step back, feeling like he was ungluing his feet from the ground. Crossing his arms and tapping his foot, he waited for Chuck to explain within the next five seconds or else he’ll angrily be on his way again.

Chuck’s mischievous grin did not go unnoticed. “Y’know, I wouldn’t have minded if you got even closer.”

“And get me to fall on you? Have my weight break something of yours?” Red mockingly bat his eyes. “How romantic.”

Chuck playfully pointed at him. “You almost did that, not m _eee_!”

“You’re the one who got in the- Ugh, whatever.” Red began jogging past him. “I gotta meet up with Matilda.”

Chuck gasped loudly. “Weren’t _we_ gonna hang out... w-with Bomb?!” He had already planned out the entirety of their TDBLBAT (‘Totally a Date But Like Bomb’s Also There’).

Red turned around while attempting to walk backwards. “Trust me, I wouldn’t hang out with her for fun.” He nearly tripped on a pebble and continued jogging normally. “See you tomorrow or something!”

His destination was Matilda’s prenatal yoga class for expectant mothers, which also had like another room for hatchlings? He figured that Matilda was killing two birds with one stone (not literally) by having a place for (once again) expectant mothers to leave their hatchlings under supervision as closely as possible while they prepare for another kid. He’s been there to help before, but luckily just for the hatchlings and not the mothers.

Red was greeted by Matilda’s huge, off-putting grin as she waved goodbye to a couple who had just picked up their hatchling. He always find something amusing about how much of a mother hen she is, to the point where she has fake smiling down to an art, like most mothers seem to. Or so he’s heard.

Her smile dropped in record time as soon as the door shut. He’s also found it amusing how quickly she stopped using that forced grin on him altogether. “You’re late,” she brought a wing to her forehead, “but considering it’s just a few minutes late and not it-already-ended late, consider this your personal best.”

“Oh,” Red rolled his eyes. “I’m honored.”

Matilda checked off a few names on a clipboard she had near a table. “Drop the attitude. We have a few new hatchlings for you to read to today. Try telling them something _other_ than the time you saved the eggs; our regulars have heard that enough to the point where parents say they’ve heard their kids retelling it in their sleep and I wouldn’t want you to have some kind of outburst due to having to tell it so many times. It’s unprofessional. Don’t tell them those ‘updated’ versions of classics either.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t need you scarring the future generation by telling them that the seven dwarves _eat Snow White at the end!_ Or your ‘nicknames’ for the seven dwarves! You’re so creative and I’m actually _not_ saying that in a sarcastic way. Why can’t you make something _nice_ for once?”

Red crossed his wings and Matilda spoke as she walked into another room. “I’ll be checking on you shortly to make sure you’re following simple rules.” A pained screech is heard from the room. **_“PUSH!”_** Matilda responded to it.

He briefly forgot that if she had a yoga session for expectant mothers, there’s a chance for eggs to be laid right then and there. He pitied the poor birds who were to become first-time parents and had to deal with _that_ much preparation from Matilda. Which then led to some thoughts about the future...

Before he could have a freak out over the concept of _himself_ expecting sometime in the future _and_ having to deal with _her_ , plus the meltdowns that would be had by a certain bird he currently pictured as his husband in said scenario, a tug was felt on his leg.

A beige, brown-eyed hatchling stared wide-eyed at him. “Story.”

Red picked her up and pat the tuft of feathers atop of her head. “How did you get out of there?” He walked through the door and into a brightly colored room with toys and drawings everywhere. Hatchlings either played rough with each other, drooled on everything, or babbled gibberish loudly. “Yeah, I wouldn’t wanna be in here either if I were you,” Red muttered closely to her, earning a giggle from the hatchling.

He gently sat her down next to the other hatchlings who gathered around to hear a story narrated by him.

One hatchling spoke up. “You gonna say th’ pigs story, mister Red?”

“Uh, no...” Red rubbed the back of his head. Coming up with a new story on the spot wasn’t going to be easy. Hell, sometimes he had trouble retelling the story of how he saved the eggs and he’s said it repeatedly. Not to mention that he was _in_ it.

Retelling a story he was in... He got an idea.

He swallowed. “Okay, kids. Uh, lets try something new. How about each of us draws something and then tells a story to go with it? You all know how to talk, right?”

“Baa!” One hatchling spoke up before sticking their tongue out.

“...Most of you know how to talk, right?”

Getting paper and materials for the kids to use should be easy, Red made it a task to do that as quick as possible before the hatchlings lost interest in this activity and started making a mess all over the room again. Luckily, Matilda walked in, took note of what Red was trying to do, and helped out. Sitting all the kids and themselves in a circle on the floor, the adults repeated the instructions and helped if anyone needed it.

(In the end, Red was the one needing some help. “You came up with this idea, Red. You have to participate.” “Drawing _what_ exactly?” “Just _**something**_.” “Oh wow. You’re so helpful. Can’t wait to draw just something.” Followed by the sound of a smack on the head.)

Once everyone was done, volunteers went up to present their drawing and a story. They ended up being more like descriptions of what was drawn rather than a story; save for one hatchling, who misunderstood the instructions and drew eggs in order to tell the—shortened— tale of when the pigs arrived. Neither of the adults had the heart to tell her otherwise and one hatchling wondered if this was allowed because they wanted to tell that story too.

Red paid attention to the following young bird who volunteered.

“I drew my mommy,” said the beige hatchling while holding a sheet of paper. In it contained a shaky crayon depiction of a bird with notable features, such as a slightly darker shade of beige for her feathers than the artist and extremely long eyelashes. And a big smile that tends to be present in hatchlings’ drawings. Everything always had big smiles. “She’s pretty an’ smart an’ says stories, like mister Red.”

Red wasn’t aware of what point exactly he brought a wing to his chest during that.

Matilda quickly clapped her wings. “Very sweet, Samantha!”

Samantha waddled her way towards Red. “Did you draw your mommy, mister Red?”

“Oh.” His posture stiffened while bringing his sheet of paper closer to his chest. “N-No...”

“So, what _did_ you draw, then?” Matilda joined into the conversation. “Look. I drew my garden! Or at least, my ideal garden; one I would’ve had if only I had more time and skill. Oh right, it’s also the dream garden I was close to achieving until _someone_ took their _anger_ out on it.”

This wasn’t the first time Red and Matilda stared at each other for about ten seconds without blinking. Her expression dropped, a raised eyebrow becoming very notable on her face shortly after. ”...You didn’t draw anything, did you?”

“I drew... It’s just... It’s basically just sketches-“ Red flinched at feeling a tug on his paper, not a very strong tug by any mean, but probably as strong as a hatchling could. Red weakness for hatchlings kicked in at full force due to Samantha’s puppy-dog eyes and he reluctantly let go with an ‘oh boy’, leading Samantha to stumble onto the floor. She simply shook it off and happily stared at the object she worked so hard to get.

“Pretty!” Samantha beamed as other hatchlings gathered together to take a look as well. A mess of similar words —some simply proclaiming _‘banana!’_ — said by every other hatchling to describe the drawing erupted, making Matilda decide it was her time to see what all the fuss was about.

In no time, Matilda couldn’t prevent a grin from taking up her face. “Red, that’s-“

Red’s wings were crossed, his eyes looking in every possible direction except towards where the other birds were. “Yeah... It’s- Yeah.” He cleared his throat.

Matilda couldn’t nudge him into admitting more about his drawing before a brown hatchling made an announcement that made everything go from zero to one-hundred. “You loves him.” Red took note of how it wasn’t said as a question in the slightest. “There’s hearts in it!” Red felt himself shrink over this and it wouldn’t get any better from there.

“You a mommy and daddy?” asked the green hatchling.

“No,” Red felt himself choke. “W-We just-“

“You’re always together!” said the purple hatchling with a squeal.

“I-It’s not just us! There’s-“

“He you two’s hatchling,” continued the purple hatchling as they pointed at another hatchling in the room. “I know red and yellow make orange!”

“BUT-“

“You two’ll get marrieeed an’ live in a castle!”

“ _WHAT?!”_

“ ** _RED_**.” After a sudden silence in the room and fake coughing fit from the chicken herself, Matilda awkwardly chuckled before speaking. “Red, I’m glad you finally got out of that closet-“

“Please, that happened months ago,” Red interjected, matter-of-factly. Several hatchlings commented among each other, wondering if the adults were talking about a game of hide-and-seek. The chatting about this managed to keep them entertained while waiting for the drawing presentation to continue.

Matilda blinked. “...Anyway, are you seriously listening to this silly romance talk from _hatchlings_?”

“Well,I...” Red sighed. “I got a lot of stuff going on. Can’t just get into a relationship without thinking all that through, y’know? Even if these kids’re messing with my blood pressure...”

“Is there any reason you can’t... y’know... talk to _Chuck_ about this? It makes me think that our communication lessons in class aren’t getting to your head... Actually, I doubt it’s getting to anyone’s head and it’s an important one! Ugh, now I have to edit the plans I had for class to revisit that bec-“

In the midst of flipping her own sheet of paper to take note of updates she’ll need to do to the lesson plan, a red blur bolting out of the room couldn’t be ignored.

“ ** _I DIDN’T MEAN RIGHT NOW!_** ” Matilda looked around the room in hopes that her voice being raised didn’t startle anyone.

A pink hatchling waddled towards Matilda with a pout, which led to the latter picking up the younger bird in her arms. “I wanted t’ show ‘im my drawing...”

 

* * *

 

 

Earlier

“See you tomorrow or something!”

“Tomorrow or something...” Chuck quietly repeated.

Chuck sulked as he watched Red jog away, eventually not being able to be seen due to the crowd of birds starting to really occupy the area. Turning around, the line for Early Bird Worms was twice as long as before. He didn’t want to risk getting into trouble at the moment by zipping by and just taking some of the worms. His current state leads him to believe he’d steal a noticeable amount to drown his sorrows in.

With a sigh, he walked to the very, very end of the line. He didn’t bother trying to think about how much time must’ve passed between this and finally getting his breakfast. He ordered a worm sandwich, but it tasted of sadness. Actually, it was quite delicious, Chuck just wished he hadn’t finished it in one bite as soon as he received it.

He didn’t have to think much about where to go next, seeing as a way to spend the day had appeared before him almost immediately in the form of a very round bird. Chuck’s always wanted to trademark the word ‘borb’; surely no one’s ever thought of that but him.

“Hey, Chuck!” Patting the top of Chuck’s head got a pout in response, which made a snicker escape Bomb’s beak. “Why the long face?”

“Red had to do something else.”

“Aw, well. We can still hang out,” A comforting expression on Bomb’s face turned into an excited one. “I have something to show you!” Using minimal effort, Chuck ended up perched on Bomb’s shoulder, the yellow bird’s expression being nowhere near similar to his friend’s hype over whatever is to come.

Chuck zoned off only to be brought back by a sudden stop. It didn’t seem all that far away from where they previously were. “...Is this it? Just an empty stand?”

“It’s not just an empty stand! It’s-“ Bomb squinted. “I... I told you about this! I got my own stand! I got a job!” He got a feeling by seeing Chuck find more interest in a box full of decorations nearby rather than what he was saying, but pushed it down. At least it was something Bomb had brought him over to do; decorate the stand of... he wasn’t entirely sure _what_ he was going to be selling or doing here, but running his own little business is something he’s always had in mind. No angry boss yelling at him to the point of tears and/or explosions, no anxiety over customers asking about stuff he doesn’t know about, no worrying over what co-workers think of him because there aren’t any. Just him.

At least, for now. Sometimes he’s debated over letting any of his best amigos work with him if they wanted to, but he already knows Red wouldn’t have the patience for it and Bomb wouldn’t want to stress over having to fire his bestie. Chuck would be a better choice; fast, friendly, chatty, could help advertise. That is, if only he could focus on the job and not just stand there fiddling with miscellaneous decorations for... whatever it is that this stand would become. Bomb resisted the urge to groan at him and forced a smile. “Okay, I see you like the decorations, now lets just put them up.”

Chuck looked up at him, twirling a piece of string he found in the box. Bomb took this as him being confused —and weirdly quiet— and clarified: “Just put whatever you think looks nice. It’ll be fun! We’re just trying to get a head start here and we’ll change stuff later on if we have to. I’m gonna think of ideas for this while you do that, okay?” Grabbing a clipboard and pencil that was placed on the stand’s counter, Bomb got to work, not listening if he even got a ‘fine’ in response from Chuck.

A while later, Bomb sat with his back against a tree and eyed his sheet of paper, nodding at all the thoughts he had written down. His expression turned into a polar opposite of what he previously had shortly after taking more time to think certain ideas through and crossing out ones that didn’t seem all that great now. In the end, the paper read:

1) Selling food— Maybe? I don’t think there’s anything I’m especially good at, but no one has ever said anything bad about what I’ve cooked.

2) Giving advice— Don’t know if birds would pay for that even if I did give some pretty good tips.

3) Giving LOVE advice— Maybe! I wouldn’t consider myself some kinda expert, but I DO think that CERTAIN birds need to learn a thing or two.

Followed by a scribbled out drawing of Chuck. The most recent ideas weren’t that good.

~~4) Selling customized poems~~

~~5) Selling original scarves~~

6) H

The last one was the result of his pencil’s tip breaking.

Subconsciously rubbing the eraser of the pencil across the edge of his beak, Bomb figured he’d need more time to figure out _what_ exactly he wanted to do here. Having a job where he could do things at his own pace wasn’t something he’d want to lose just because he couldn’t think of something to turn this into as soon as possible... Why would he lose it, though? Would others think that no one owns this stand and start their own business in it or...

Bomb’s eyes drifted upward, seeing his stand. Seeing it exactly like it was a while ago.

Brows furrowed, he jogged as quickly as he could towards it. Not a single decoration or any sort of change like he was expecting. Looking down, he found the source of said lack of progress simply laying down and relaxing near the box of decorations on the ground.

“Chuck! You didn’t do _anything_?”

“Uh,” Chuck twirled a piece of string between his fingers. “A lot’s on my mind is all...”

Bomb frowned. “You just sat there thinking about Red, didn’t you?”

“Bomb, I’m dealing with adult stuff here.”

Inhaling deeply, Bomb thought that there was, perhaps, just one way in which what was just said could’ve possibly hurt him more... No, it having a swear would’ve hurt just as much. He exhaled sharply and spoke in a way in which he didn’t want his anger to take a toll of him. “ ‘Adult stuff’...? I’m an adult too! ...It gets hard to act like one, but I am!” He failed to do so as he reached the end of his response.

Still not facing him, Chuck continued playing with string. “Sure you are, sweetie.”

“You know I’m sensitive about that! You... You didn’t even listen to me when I was excited about this job and now you didn’t help me with such a simple thing! And you just don’t care!” Bomb grit his teeth. He wasn’t going to allow himself to cry. “...You kept going on about Red being rude even when he just didn’t know how you felt and you do that just fine even when you _know_ better, so maybe you two _are_ as meant to be as you keep saying!”

 

Feeling as though all the sound in the world had been muted —for a second time today to the yellow bird at least—, Bomb’s breath got caught in his throat as Chuck slowly turned his head towards him, dropping the decoration he was playing with this entire time in the process. “...Excuse me?” His tone wasn’t angry or offended, simply surprised.

A second later, Chuck found himself caught in a painful embrace, making him feel like _he’s_ the one about to blow up. Tears falling on his head weren’t making it any better. “I’m s-sorry,” Bomb sobbed.

“...Ya good?” Chuck tried squeaking out. Bomb shook his head while making a squeak of his own, reminiscent of a sad puppy whining. Being able to release a wing from this hug, Chuck pat his friend’s back. “Bomb, ...a lot’s just been going on.”

Bomb placed Chuck down and controlled his voice as much as he could at the moment. “I... The problem isn’t just with this stand. You’ve been doing this for a while now! You invite me to a bar and just ignore me because Red’s there. When you _do_ talk to me, you just... make me feel bad for not really doing much there. We aren’t all party animals, you know. Then, you call me to comfort you because Red couldn’t read your mind- I mean, because Red said something mean to you and he’s _The One_ for you. And then you don’t like my comforting and then you pushed me out of your house to deal with a hungover Red instead of you... y’know, TALKING to him!” He breathed for a moment and Chuck found himself slowly resting against the stand while letting this all sync in. “You could’ve just ran someplace else! You definitely ignored me basically all day yesterday, too. And now he had to do something and you’re so hung up on him that you can’t even function or do anything with just me and I thought we were best friends!”

Chuck stuck his wings out in defense. “We are! Bomb, we’re besties and I love you! But... But, he’s the-“

“I know. ‘The one’. What if you were wrong again? What if he’s not and this goes bad?”

Chuck crossed his wings. “What— Do _you_ like me or something?” He brought a wing up to his beak. “Hm. That _would_ kinda make sense, but then this would get even more comp-“

Rolling his eyes, Bomb groaned. “No. I just... You’re putting, like, waaay to much pressure into dating.” He walked towards Chuck and pat the top of his head. “I’m sorry for blowing up... Metaphorically. Good thing I didn’t _actually_ blow up. I can’t afford destroying this stand. Anyway, I’m really rooting for you guys, but just... date.”

Chuck took the other bird’s wing off of his head. “...That’s what I’m _trying_ to do, Bomb! You _know_ for how long I’ve been waiting-”

“Just casually date like normal birds! Love each other, but like, also live your life and don’t be... _this_ obsessed with him. I know you —and probably him, too— have your issues and complicated reasons for romance and whatnot, but you’re...” Bomb walked over to place a wing around Chuck’s back. “...Setting yourself up for that mayyybe not turning out as perfect as you want it to be. I mean, right now you’re waiting for him to realize you’re the love of his life or something!”

Feeling the prescience of another bird, they turned their heads and were greeted to an out-of-breath Red; bending his body forward, relying on the stand to keep him standing, and using his other wing to clutch his chest. An incoherent ‘ _hold_ _on’_ being within his mess of coughing and panting, which all turned into slightly controlled heavy breathing.

Chuck patiently waited for Red to finish. _‘Not that I mind his heavy breathing.’_ He cleared his throat and held his own wings behind his back innocently.

Red coughed. “What?”

“...What?”

“You don’t mind my... breathing?”

Bomb stared. “You two sure are something.”

Remaining completely stoic, Chuck blinked. “Did I say that out loud or did I think it?”

“You said it...” Red crossed his arms. “Think I’m some kinda mind reader, man?” An eyebrow raised.

After a long exhale, Chuck stood quiet. Whistling in an attempt to not continue this conversation, but not continue this sudden lack of noise between the two. Red made his way towards the inside of Bomb’s stand where both of his friends were. Red fidgeted with his wings, trying to find the words to say. Chuck felt an excitement forming in the pit of his stomach, but turned his view towards a not-very-amused Bomb. Looking at Chuck, Bomb signaled towards Red; not looking angry or annoyed like he previously was, more resigned to what he thought was going to happen is likely about to happen and that all that he just expressed would be forgotten.

“ _Chuck!”_ Red started. “You like me!” He remained with his wings up in the air. “Er, I... I mean _..._ I mean, that’s _true_ , but what I meant to say was— _I_ like _you!_ I _like_ you! Uh, in the gay way! Yeah!” His wings dropped. “You have... no idea how relieving it is to say that out loud.”

After a loud gasp was heard, Red flinched upon blinking and having Chuck be just a few inches from his face yet again. Red hates the universe for putting him in scenario so often. Actually, ...no. He doesn’t. At least, he doesn’t right now. And he’ll never hate being put so close to Chuck ever again.

Grinning ever so greatly, Chuck poked Red’s chest with his finger. “You...”

“Y-Yeah...? I mean, I said it...”

Chuck released an ear-piercing screech. “One moment,” he calmly said while sticking his index finger up. Red blinked and Chuck was nowhere to be seen. Although, he does hear a faint scream coming from somewhere in the island.

A yellow blur got Red into the mother of all hugs; not enough to lift him off of the ground completely, but enough to spin him around as fast as he could. Red wondered why him being picked up has become a recurring theme in his days. Before he could object, he heard Chuck’s sniffling and felt some of tears fall on his feathers. Whatever slight uncomfortableness Red felt with how quick this was happening evaporated.

Putting him back down, Chuck dried his tears as best as he could, not that it stopped new ones from trying to form. He clears his throat and changes his tone completely, having a more... flirty one. He leaned over and supported himself by putting an elbow on Red’s side, his other wing on his hip, and his legs crossed. “So,” he smirked. “How’d you figure it out?”

Red swallows, unable to keep a straight face. Unable to _be_ straight, as well. “W-Well, I just thought about it, y’know?” His voice getting higher pitched by the end and not liking the increasingly smug expression on Chuck’s face, having taken note of that as well. He sighed, “I thought about it a lot... In hindsight, it was there for, like, a long time? I guess I just didn’t feel it until the thing at the bar happened... I _really_ got it when I had this dream.”

He got distracted by Chuck’s eyebrow waggle. He places his wings on Chuck’s chest to get him off of him. “Not like _that_.” His face flushes before removing his wings off of Chuck. “But, uh. It was gay... And...”

Red looked around Main Street, his confused expression getting Chuck’s attention. “What’s wrong?”

“Huh. I was... gonna say that the weird hippie lady that had a tent around here also helped me realize it ‘cause of something she said, but... I don’t see it anywhere.” Chuck looked around as well. The tent seemed to have disappeared entirely from one day to the next. Red would’ve made a mental note to ask whatever happened to that, but he didn’t care enough. “Anyway, after some... stuff I realized that things I couldn’t control are what led me close to you; the guy at the bar, you giving me the silent treatment, ...there’s more, but basically— it was my turn to take matters into my own wings.”

Chuck’s face beamed with excitement towards his hopefully-soon-to-be-more-than friend. “We’re _so_ meant to be!” His expression rapidly turned into a more skeptical one. “Wait no, uh... We’re _not_ meant to be- We are, but-“

“So, let’s talk!” Red interrupted.

Chuck tilted his head. “Talk?”

“Yeah, talk... I’ve been sorta...” Red held his wings behind his back. “...Thinkin’ about this... too much. I guess I kinda know what I want... but I don’t entirely know what _you_ want. Besides, y’know... stability due to your old relationships.”

Chuck tilted his head. “Want about what?”

“I just...” Red signaled towards the bench on the opposite side of the stand.

Chuck blinked. “You want that bench? That’s weirdly specific, but hey— if that’s what you want, I’m sure I c-”

 _“No!”_ Red grabbed Chuck’s wing and led the way. “Let’s talk while _sitting_ on the bench!” But Chuck didn’t budge. Red stopped and turned to him. “What?”

“Red, I... realized something.” Chuck swallowed while forcing himself to keep eye contact with Red. The red bird’s annoyed expression not making him feel any less uneasy.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re doubting _your_ feelings _now,_ of all times.” Red let go of Chuck and stood in front of him.

“It’s not that...” Chuck exhaled deeply. He threw his wings up in the air. “...Maybe you **aren’t** _The One!_ ”

Red stared, feeling somewhat hurt by a statement that he’s always known to be true from the moment he learned about Chuck’s deal regarding that. “I... That sounds about right, actually. I mean, I’m not exactly ideal-“

Chuck held both of Red’s wings. “But that’s fine.”

“...Huh?”

“Bomb taught me about... Uh...”

The larger bird nearby took this as his cue to add in to the conversation, if there was anything to contribute on his part at any point during it, it would be here. “Casual dating,” Bomb added before walking off rather than continuing eavesdropping. He figured his work there was done. Subconsciously, Chuck and Red started walking out of the stand and more into the general Main Street area while continuing their conversation.

“Yes, thank you. And like...” Chuck breathed before possibly breaking his own record for fastest speaking. “I guess I did already know about that, but I just always thought about just finding THE perfect bird and it just kept going wrong and ending up making me feel like garbage and I thought I’d never find it and then I met YOU! I felt like I finally found it! But then I felt I was wrong again because of the Billy thing, but then I felt like I was wrong about being wrong, but then I was wrong about being wrong about being wrong because of the thing at the bar and-“

Red placed his wing on Chuck’s shoulder. “Dude.”

“...Long story short: I put waaay too much pressure on myself when it came to dating. I should’ve told you I liked you instead of... thinking all _THAT_ and getting mad at you for not taking the hint, especially since you didn’t understand how I felt because you had some other personal stuff goin’ on. So! Whatever happens happens, y’know?”

“...Hey, man— I put a lotta pressure on myself, too... I just... You sure you wanna date _me?_ I mean, I guess I can see... _some_ reasons why you like me,” Chuck nodded at Red’s gesture towards his own body. “But, uh... You sure you can put up with me?”

For the first time, it felt nice for Red to completely admit to himself that Chuck’s physical contact was the reason his face was heating up. Chuck’s wing around him _did_ feel a bit lower than usual, though. “Oh, I can do that and more. If anything, the only difference’ll just be that I’ll be able to kiss you and all that stuff... Well, a lot more than I already did, so it’s just a bonus all around!”

“Mm.” Red took a different approach to feeling Chuck’s wing slide even lower on him. He cozied up on Chuck’s side, as cutesy as he possibly could and whispered: “Watch the wing; we aren’t _that_ close yet.”

Chuck moved his wing up to Red’s shoulder, an impressed look appearing on his face more so than anything. “Tease.”

Red crossed his wings and smirked. “Oh, I’m sorry. _Can’t put up with it?”_

Half-lidded eyes and a grin on his face, Chuck felt more confident than ever. “This’ll be fun.“

Before anything else could be said or done, Red got pulled out of Chuck’s embrace, making the yellow bird gasp loudly.

“Red,” Matilda started as she pulled Red by the wing to drag him away. “It seems like you took my advice, which is a first, but you can’t just run off like that! You’re going back to the hatchlings while I take care of-”

Red groaned. “ _Matildaaa_.” He got an idea. “Ya just pulled me away from something that was making me less angry! For shame.”

Before Matilda could say anything in response, Chuck caught up with the two. “ ‘Tilda, hold on!” Upon the other actually doing what he said, Chuck gave Red a peck on the cheek. “Okay, now you can go! I got things to do, too!”

Red gave a puzzled look, which quickly turned into the silliest grin he could muster when remembering Chuck’s most recent display of affection. He waved at Chuck, while his boyfriend excitedly waved back.

Turning around, Chuck skipped along as he called out for Bomb, briefly wondering at what point his buddy had wandered off. “C’mon! That stand of yours isn’t gonna decorate itself.”

As Bomb got closer, a worried expression became more apparent. “Uh,” cringing before unconfidently breaking some news to Chuck. “Yeah, about that... I thought you were gonna go out with Red right now, so I kinda... just made other plans...” When using his thumb to subtly signal behind him, Chuck peaked his head and only saw the small gift stand for last-minute gifts, which was run by one of his casual friends, one he had waved to the previous day. Said bird was wearing the same _‘I hate my job’_ look as much as ever.

Chuck connected the dots. “Oh.”

Bomb couldn’t contain his chuckle. “Aww, just _kiddiiing_! My date with them is tomorrow. Now c’mon, bud. The stand isn’t gonna decorate itself!”

Chuck smiled as he playfully elbowed his friend. “I probs deserved that, but I’m totally getting you back!”

It felt nice for things to feel like they’re back to normal, even when they really aren’t. Chuck couldn’t dwell on that for long, though. He had things to do.


End file.
